She yelped, hands flying to cover her tits and pussy, but Seraphina waved her claws, and Lena’s body lifted—floating, rigid, yanked through the air to hover before the vampire, arms and legs snapping wide like a starfish, exposing every inch. “Of course, darling. “Taste good,” she growled, waving a claw—Lena’s body flipped, ass up, floating, and Seraphina spanked her with telekinetic slaps, each smack timed with a thrust, nails scratching her cheeks. “Fucking vampires,” she muttered, grabbing her notepad and recorder. Do come in.” Lena shook her hand—firm, cool—those nails brushing her skin, sending an involuntary shiver up her arm. Lena smirked, mid-scribble. Their muscles flexed under the material, eyes downcast, and Lena’s brow furrowed. I’m working.”
Seraphina’s smirk twitched, and with a lazy snap of her fingers—those red claws flashing—the man scurried off, returning moments later with a glass of water, ice clinking. Lena took it, sipping as she flipped open her notepad, recorder on. “I’m Seraphina. She writhed, floating, fishnets brushing her skin as Seraphina knelt, licking her own claws, then dragging them over Lena’s tits—scraping, pinching nipples, leaving marks. C’mon. Lena blinked, dazed, picking up mid-sentence: “—and that’s why vampires aren’t real, right? Pleasure spiked, sharp and unwanted, clashing with fury and disbelief. “Blood is life, power is eternal.” Lena scribbled, unimpressed, her skepticism leaking through—eye rolls, a snorted
